


all that you need, needs leaving behind

by leprixx



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Changmin-centric - Freeform, Corsetry, Corsetry used as a tool of self-acceptance, Gift Work, M/M, Pining, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4072165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leprixx/pseuds/leprixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin knew enough, Changmin knew too much - and then nothing at all, because last he knew (-and here, a laugh, something bitter flowing through his lips as pain-) Yoochun was still fucking Yunho. Last he knew everything was fine despite his own failure, but then it wasn't and all he had left was <i>Yunho</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that you need, needs leaving behind

He and Junsu had stumbled on them, once, and he'd bit his tongue bloody while Junsu stood by his side, back straight, body frozen and eyes roaming, analyzing, synthesizing. They'd left an eternity later, footsteps quiet, but only after the image had burned itself behind Changmin's eyelids - the way Yoochun had his legs parted, thighs white as sweat ran down Yunho's back.

Junsu had gone quiet for the next week, until Jaejoong finally snapped at him and it made Junsu crack a bad joke or two (but he hadn't let neither Yunho or Yoochun touch him for weeks after that, and it had been weird, and Changmin thought 'how stupid of them' because they should know, but they didn't, and they kept fucking until it was too late).

\--

It made him skin crawl. It shaped his torso differently, contrasted against his tanned skin in a shock of color. It made breathing difficult.

\- but Changmin liked it, still. Oh, it made him disgusting, but he liked it. It gave him a rush of feeling, something stronger than control - it grounded him. And the way it made Yunho stare at him now, well, it made him forget other things - it sent it somewhere dark, somewhere deep and to rot until he was alone, again, alone and broken.

He was none of that, now. Now, he was raised shoulders, back straight, piece wrapped around him with precision.

The first one had come as a mock gift for him and Jaejoong - a pair of black ones, and he'd raised his eyebrows, mouth tight, and cussed at his hyungs, but then it was three weeks later and he was home alone with Jaejoong and hot, angry tears were running down his cheeks as he asked his hyung for help fastening it (Jaejoong had raised his eyebrows at him, licking his bottom lip, but complied. They hadn't talked about it after, even when Jaejoong cornered him alone, 3am, at their shared dorm in japan and shoved a receipt worth thousands of dollars in his hands, a receipt worth a blue piece that fit perfectly, tight in a good way and caressing his skin the way a lover's lip would)

The one he wears now is from Jaejoong, too, even though they hadn't talked in years. Changmin had stared at the box for a long time when it came, on his first birthday alone with Yunho, wavering between burning it or crying, but then he opened it and there it was, white as a wedding dress with gray deers and swans sewn in, delicate and beautiful in ways he could only feel when wearing it.

\--

He'd been in love. It was more than that truly, or less - it wasn't love, for he couldn't dare, but it wasn't idolizing, either, because he knew - he knew Yoochun enough, in his mannerisms, in the twist of his knees, in the dip of his cheek, in the low of his voice.

He knew enough to want, enough to open space of jealousy and greed. And all, invariably, came crashing down once he got the chance to know _more_ \- of how naked skin shone with sweat brought from desire and not exhaustion, of how his erection curved, of how his thighs shook as he forced himself open.

Changmin knew enough, Changmin knew too much - and then nothing at all, because last he knew (-and here, a laugh, something bitter flowing through his lips as pain-) Yoochun was still fucking Yunho. Last he knew everything was fine despite his own failure, but then it wasn't and all he had left was _Yunho_.

(And how ironic, how cruel, how fitting.)

\--

' _don't go to sleep_ ', he texts Yunho when he hears the front door open. He's on his room, sitting on the bed, elbows resting on his knees. Panic and anger are trying to claw their way out of his chest, but he's resolute. ' _wait for me_ '.

(And then, just before he opens the door: _I miss you_ , but to a number he's not supposed to have.)

\--

"It's... Nice. Beautiful, I guess." Yunho says, eyebrows low, eyes running over the firmness of fabric, hands reaching out to touch. "But how- I mean, why-"

"Don't talk." Changmin says, at last, moving so that the sole of his left foot is pressing more firmly on the ground.

"Changmin."

"I said don't talk." He moves back, and Yunho rises, eyes on his. "Yunho" He says, because hyung is long gone - most of them are, anyway. He tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter. "Sit." He holds his breath and keeps their eyes meeting until Yunho complies, face marked with determination. "I'm going to ask you some things, and you will reply."

"About what?"

"Yoochun." Yunho sucks in a breath but Changmin moves his hand, fast, interrupting. "We will talk about this. It's been years." He says, and waits for Yunho's scowl to lessen, waits for him to adjust on the chair before going for the box he had left on the table. Yunho is still wearing a pair of black slacks and a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows - something from a photoshoot, by the way his face is still young through make-up. He opens the box with cold terror running through his veins - he feels ready, but not secure. It's strange - another level of baring, and this one he had chosen himself, though he still had emailed Jaejoong with the information. It's a black corset, though this one runs in a slight circle in the front top, made for keeping flesh inside, the laces meant to be tied at the sides. Bigger than the one he was wearing right now, but lighter - mostly fabric with no determined shape. He raises it and shows it to Yunho. "Take your shirt off."

Silence runs, sharp, cutting until cut-

"Changmin."

"Do it."

"No."

" _Do it_." He takes four quick strides until he's close enough to have to look down at Yunho.

Yunho shivers, and then his lips part, though his teeth stay pressed together. His hands tremble as he reaches for fabric to pull, buttons to slide and free. Changmin doesn't move but for the machinery of his continued existence, even as Yunho's wrist collides with his thigh. He finishes with a huff of anger, bones rattling against skin as he looks at Changmin's eyes again.

"Are you going to put it on me, too? Is is not enough to embarrass yourself-"

"So it's embarassing myself, now?" He raises an eyebrow, even as betrayal slides down his spine.

"It's your choice, not mine." Yunho nearly spits, jaw clenching. "I don't like this sort of- of depravity, this-"

And before he's done, Changmin is on his knees, between Yunho's spread thighs and the older is shocked into silence.

"I don't want to humiliate you." He says, quietly, undoing the laces, because it's true. He doesn't want to - humiliation is cheap, dirty. And not what he wants from Yunho, anyway. Not anymore - he's grown, in the past few years. Alone. "It's not- I'm not like that" He says, louder, and Yunho flinches when he finally passes the fabric through him, beneath Yunho's arms.

"Then why?"

Changmin raises Yunho's left arm, starts doing the laces, threading them quickly and efficiently. His gestures speak of practice, habit, years. He's not ashamed. He has no reason to be.

"This," He says, finishing with precision and moving to the other side, Yunho raising his own arm without needing to be asked. "This is fragility." He tugs on the laces until the fabric stretches over Yunho's torso, uses one hand to pull it higher on his chest. "This is a disguise." He finishes and stays kneeling, still. "This is control."

\--

He makes Yunho tell him how it started - how they got drunk and kissed. How they got drunk again and touched each other. How they brought alcohol to each other and ended up fucking without it. How Yoochun moaned for pain once and then begged for it later. Yunho doesn't look as apologetic (why would he be, anyway? he doesn't know. Changmin hopes he doesn't, at least.) as he talks, but there's a twist to his lips that can either translate to disgust or fondness.

Changmin's phone buzzes. Yunho stops talking - mid sentence to Jaejoong almost catching them once, at Jaejoong raising eyebrows at the bruises decorating Yoochun's thighs -, and his face flutters to worry as Changmin drops it.

' _i miss you too_ '. and then, again, as he fumbles to get the phone before Yunho can reach it, ' _so much_ '.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on livejournal (2012-08-25), as birthday gift for lj user chunsangel. three years later i'm still low-key working on a jaejoong companion piece so that might be posted someday.


End file.
